“Oh my God. Mom,” Sean said, with a glance at the iPad. He leaned in and gave his mother a hug. She pul ed him closer and kissed him on his cheek and then his forehead before letting him go.
“What?” she said. “You know I love it.” Abigail turned the screen off and smiled up at Hannah. She had curly dark hair to her shoulders and eyes that were the exact same color as her son’s. “It’s Hannah, right?” Abigail reached behind her and pul ed out a walking stick. She maneuvered herself out of her chair and with the help of the stick made her way to Hannah and gave her a one-armed hug.
“Welcome. You must be so tired. Grab a seat, and let’s get you fed.
Please tel me you’re not a vegetarian?”
“Nope,” said Sean. “She’s an omnivore like the rest of us.” He’d cuddled the dog—introducing him as Howard the Wonder Dog—and was already grabbing plates from a cupboard and bringing them to the table. On his way past he took Hannah by the shoulder and pushed her gently into a chair. “Sit. You can’t help. You don’t know where anything is.”
“Sean, I just defrosted some stroganoff. You get that out of the oven and bring it to the table. I made fresh rice, and there’s bread, and wine, and with that we shal have to do. Next time, give me some notice and I’l get some fish, al right?”
Hannah watched, uncomfortable that she was doing nothing while others did al the work, particularly Sean’s mom who clearly had a disability. Sean had never mentioned it. In fact he’d specifical y said his mom was wel . Was it something that she’d been born with?
Abigail was drinking too. Was that a good idea? She walked with a heavy limp and obviously needed the walking stick. Why was Sean letting her do so much in the kitchen? She should be sitting down.
And he’d said he only saw her a couple of times a semester. So, what, he left her to fend for herself in the meantime? Unless . . .
maybe his dad? There’d been a family photograph on the table in the hal —a photo of a much younger Abigail, a handsome man, and what was presumably baby Sean. Where was this handsome man now?
Sean poured wine for everyone and Abigail served dinner and there was absolute silence for the first minute while everyone got started. The food was rich and fil ing and welcome after a long and difficult day. Abigail finished her glass of wine and poured another.
Sean was drinking too. Hannah took a sip from her own glass and told herself to stop worrying. Abigail was not her responsibility.
“So tel me about your day? What were you two up to that brought you over to Greensvil e? Visiting the prison?”
Sean shook his head but he had a mouth ful of food and couldn’t speak.
“Uh . . . we were in Charlotte,” Hannah said. “Interviewing a witness. We’re visiting a prisoner in the morning.” She stil felt uncomfortable.
Sean swal owed, gestured with his fork. “The interview was interesting. The witness is a possible alibi for our client, but he ran after the arrest eleven years ago. Got out of town and basical y hasn’t been seen since. We think that’s due to police intimidation, but we’re worried the prosecution wil use it to make our client look bad.”
Abigail made a face. “Wel , I can see that. Sounds like it wil be a difficult cal .” She reached out with the wine bottle and topped up everyone’s glasses. “Would he make a good witness? How do you think he would do on the stand?”
“I don’t know. It’s too early to say. And we don’t real y have time to find out.”
“Are you a lawyer, Abigail?” Hannah asked.
“It’s Abbie, please. And no, not a lawyer, thank goodness. One in the family is enough.” She smiled at Sean.
“She’s an office manager for a law firm. That’s what she does.
She herds lawyers al day. Badgers them. Snipes at them. Until they do her bidding.”
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
That sort of thing went on for a while. Gentle teasing. Inside jokes. They were very easy with each other. Unusual y relaxed and comfortable. It wasn’t anything like a normal family relationship.
More like a friendship. When they finished eating, Hannah stood quickly and insisted on cleaning up. She gathered the plates and started to scrape scraps into the garbage bin, tried to find the dishwasher, and shot a dagger look at Sean when Abigail stood up and started to help. He was looking at his phone and didn’t notice. It got awkward quickly. Abigail kept chatting, kept things friendly and light, but she took over the cleaning and made it clear, without saying anything directly, that she didn’t want help. Soon Hannah found herself standing uselessly off to the side, holding again her glass of wine, pressed into her hand by Abigail.